


The First Question

by aw_writing_no



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Character Study (Good Omens), Gen, Pre-Slash, Scene: Garden of Eden (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29948439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aw_writing_no/pseuds/aw_writing_no
Summary: Crawley’s reptilian mouth can’t quite manage to smile; instead he bares his teeth in cruel parody of a grin. He is intimately aware of the dangers that can befall a curious soul.Get up there and cause some trouble, his superiors had said.Crawley isn’t one for fire and destruction -- he prefers a more subtle approach. He decides to stir up trouble the exact way he did in Heaven.He asks questions.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 23





	The First Question

Crawley breaks through the dirt in the Garden of Eden, the rocky soil rough against the scales on his stomach. The sensation causes anger to course down his spine. 

The Fall had been excruciating -- Grace physically torn from his body, burning his insides and leaving a vacuum of empty space in his chest. A brimstone lake awaited them in Hell. The fire and sulfur had consumed him, the pressure crushing him until he disintegrated completely. Then he was forced back together, atoms created seemingly by pure pain and blinding rage. Compressed into a completely new and terrible form.

He had slithered out of the lake, scales still smoldering. No longer an angel; he had no wings. He was the Serpent, tethered to the earth, cursed to feel the ground beneath him with every inch of his body.  _ Crawley _ . A slap to the face. Worse than Falling, worse than losing the connection to Heaven’s love. 

She had taken the stars from him.

It had taken every ounce of the energy he had poured into Creation to miracle himself a pair of wings. Not white, like the light from Heaven, but black as the night sky. 

Right now, in the Garden, Crawley lifts his head, holding the top third of his body off the ground to gaze upward. Sunlight filters through the branches, dappling the forest floor with bright patches of light. But the canopy is thick, blocking most of the sky. Probably meant to make the humans feel sheltered and safe, surrounded by lush foliage and bountiful fruit.

Crawley thinks it looks more like a barrier between them and the heavens. 

He slithers across roots and fallen leaves, weaving between the various placid animals that populate Eden. They merely blink at the Serpent in their midst -- after all, they have never seen a predator before. 

Finally he sees Eve, leaning against the smooth trunk of a eucalyptus tree. She runs her hands over her stomach, smiling at the small bulge beneath her navel. It seems as if the humans had already figured out how to spawn more humans. Fascinating. 

Crawley tilts his head, tongue flicking to sense the air. Satisfaction and happiness radiate from Eve as she lounges in a spot of sun. Beneath that is another emotion, a profound curiosity about the life stirring within her womb. 

Crawley’s reptilian mouth can’t quite manage to smile; instead he bares his teeth in cruel parody of a grin. He is intimately aware of the dangers that can befall a curious soul. 

_ Get up there and cause some trouble _ , his superiors had said. 

Crawley isn’t one for fire and destruction -- he prefers a more subtle approach. He decides to stir up trouble the exact way he did in Heaven.

He asks questions. 

“May I join you in the ssssun?”

Eve looks up from her stomach and smiles widely at him.

“Of course,” she says. As he slithers across the ground towards her, she says, “Although, I do not know what manner of creature you are.”

“A sssnake,” Crawley says. He’s not sure he likes his sibilant voice, the long, drawn out S’s that slide off his tongue to escape through his teeth. 

“Hello, snake. I am Eve.” 

Crawley curls up next to her, briefly closing his eyes as the sun warms his scales. Then he raises his head so that they are face to face. She does not seem put off by his yellow eyes, meeting his gaze with an open, innocent expression. 

“How do you like the Garden, Eve?”

“It’s Paradise,” she replies. “We are never wanting for anything.” 

“How does it feel? To know that everything in this Paradissse was made for you?”

“Not everything,” she says. “There are two trees that we are not to touch. The fruit is not for us to eat.” 

_ Perfect _ . “Why not?”

Even seems momentarily confused by his question. “It is not for us,” she repeats. 

“The rest of the fruit isss,” Crawley reasons. “Is it not the ssame as the other fruit in the Garden?”

“No, it’s different. Round and red.”

“An apple,” Crawley says. He had been around when God created those. “Do you ever wonder what it tastess like?” Crawley can see Eve thinking, frowning as his words sink into her mind.

“No,” she says, although her voice isn’t quite as steady as it had been before. “It is not for us. Why should I think about it?”

It is the first question humanity has ever asked. 

“I don’t know,” Crawley says. “Why should you?”

Eve gazes to her left, in the direction of the trees. The frown continues to play across her lips. Crawley waits, perfectly still, patient. 

Finally, she says, “Because it’s different, I suppose.” 

She strokes her hand absently down his back, fingers barely grazing his scales. Crawley shivers, but doesn’t move away from her touch. Instead he slithers up her arm to coil around her neck. She turns to meet his gaze.

“What would happen if you tasted it?” Crawley asks.

Silence. Then, “I do not know.” 

“Do you think it is something ssspecial? Too sspecial for humans to eat?”

“Maybe.” Eve seems uncertain. Crawley can see it in her eyes, can see her beginning to question the Paradise that God has created for them.

Crawley sows the final seed of doubt.

“It must be very delicious,” he says, “If God wants to keep it all to herself.” 

Eve looks startled. “Yes,” she agrees. “It must be.” 

“It wasss nice to meet you, Eve,” Crawley says, unwrapping himself from around the woman and sliding back onto the ground. “Enjoy Paradisse.”

“Goodbye, snake.” Eve’s voice is quiet, not nearly as bright and confident as when she had greeted him. Crawley feels a twinge of satisfaction, then slithers up a nearby tree to hide in the foliage.

He watches. Waits. 

Eve pushes herself off the ground and walks towards the center of the Garden. Her steps are tentative, small. Even though she frequently glances around, she doesn’t notice the Serpent gliding through the shadows behind her. 

She gets to the Tree and pauses, staring at the branches laden with ripe fruit. She shakes her head and turns to leave. Hesitates. Then she takes a deep breath and strides towards the Tree, not stopping as she reaches up to pluck the lowest hanging fruit. 

Eve turns the apple over in her hand, then holds it up in a spot of sunlight. The light reflects off the skin, and in her hand it is a bright, glimmering red. Like a ruby; it is something precious, something to covet. 

Then she brings the apple to her lips, and takes a bite. 

* * *

Crawley doesn’t  _ mean _ for the humans to get kicked out of Eden. He probably should have seen it coming though -- question God, get thrown out. Banished from Heaven, banished from the Garden. Definitely a pattern there. He should keep that in mind for the future.

Crawley watches from the shadows as Adam and Eve leave through a hole in the eastern wall. As soon as the humans are out of the Garden, the angels guarding the gates take off, returning to Heaven for a new assignment.

All the angels, except for one. 

Crawley peers up at the angel on the eastern wall, who is gazing out at the desert and wringing his hands.  _ Strange _ , Crawley thought. His forked tongue flicks out of his mouth; he can  _ taste _ the angel’s worry. His fear.  _ That’s different. _

He slithers up the wall, relishing the moment he breaks through the canopy of trees and is bathed in sunlight. Once at the top he shifts shape, and sighs in relief as the wind flows through the feathers on his wings. 

_ This _ is what he craves. Fresh air on his face, wind beneath his wings. Not the glide of dirt beneath his stomach.

The angel startles slightly at the presence beside him. Crawley flexes his wings, ready to take flight if the angel shows any inclination of smiting him. Instead the angel glances away, back towards the humans walking farther into the unknown.

“Well, that went down like a lead balloon.”

The angel gives Crawley a nervous smile. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Crawley keeps his expression completely blank, lest his confusion shown on his face -- what kind of angel  _ smiles _ at a demon? “I said, well that went down like a lead balloon.”

“Yes. Yes it did, rather.”

“Bit of an overreaction if you ask me,” Crawley says. The angel looks at him incredulously. “First offense and everything. I can’t see what’s ssso bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway.”

“Well it must be bad...”

“Crawley.”

“Crawley. It must be bad if you tempted them into it.” 

Crawley shrugs. “All I did was ask questions. She made the decision all on her own.”

The expression on the angel’s face might resemble a scowl, if he didn’t look so perplexed by Crawley’s statement. 

“Well you must have known it would cause trouble. You’re a demon, it’s what you do.” His eyes suddenly settle on Crawley’s wings and widen in alarm. “You are a demon... aren’t you?”

The laugh escapes Crawley’s lips before he can stifle the sound. The angel looks mildly offended. 

“Of course I’m a demon. How can you ask me that, angel?”

“Well I didn’t think demons had wings!” 

Crawley's entire body tenses, causing his wings to flare dramatically behind him. He forces himself to relax, and his wings settle against his back. 

“They don’t,” Crawley replies. 

“Then how...?”

“I Created them myself.”

“You Created them?” The angel’s voice raises an octave. “Only  _ angels _ can Create. Demons... well, they destroy.”

Crawley looks away. “Creation was always my strong sssuit,” he says casually. He grimaces when the words come out as a hiss. “Guess Hell fire couldn’t burn all of it away.”

The angel is openly staring now, his gaze roaming Crawley’s face as if trying to place him. Crawley shifts uncomfortably, wishing he had just lied, that he had just told the angel that wings were the new hot fashion down in Hell. Very few angels have the sheer power of Creation he once did, and Crawley isn’t interested in discussing who he once was.

Crawley changes the subject before the angel can question him further. “Doesn’t seem very subtle of the Almighty, though. Fruit tree in the middle of the Garden with a ‘Do Not Touch’ sign. I mean, why not put it on top of a very high mountain? Or on the moon?” He pauses dramatically. “Makess you wonder what God’s really planning.”

His words have the desired effect. The angel goes off about the ineffability of the Great Plan, which is a bit too much for Crawley. He quickly changes the subject again, inquiring about the angel’s lack of weaponry. He is positively delighted when the angel reveals he gave his flaming sword to the humans. 

Crawley smiles as the angel attempts to explain himself. It’s quite ingenious really, to simply  _ act _ on what you think is right without waiting to see if your actions are in line with the Great Plan. You can’t go against the Great Plan if you don’t know what it is. You can’t question Heaven’s motives if you don’t know that they differ from your own.

Heaven forbid anyone question the Great Plan. 

Crawley is quick to reassure the angel that he couldn’t do anything wrong -- which, coming from a demon who was kicked out of Heaven  _ for _ doing the wrong thing, is a rather large lie. But the angel’s smile causes a pleasant warmth to spread through his chest, and for the first time since Falling, Crawley doesn’t feel quite so hollow. 

“I’ve been worrying too. What if I did the right thing with the whole ‘eat the apple’ business?”

“How could that possibly be the right thing?”

“Well how can humansss know they’re doing the right thing if they don’t know the difference between good and evil?” Crawley presses. “How can they get into Heaven if they don’t  _ choose _ to be good?”

The angel's mouth opens and closes, words failing him. Then he shakes his head and says, “By listening to the Almighty. Obviously.” 

Crawley waves him off, but doesn’t reply. He  _ needs _ to reply though, needs to keep the angel talking until the sun sets in the west and he can finally gaze up at the night sky. 

But when the sky darkens, it’s not because the sun is dipping below the horizon. Instead, dark clouds drown out the light.

Desperation claws up Crawley’s throat. He had worked so hard for this position, manipulating imps and promising favors to ensure he could get above ground. Tempting was all well and good, but it’s not why Crawley practically begged for this assignment.

“A storm,” the angel supplies, mistaking the slight twitch of Crawley’s lips as a sign of confusion. As if he couldn’t fathom that a demon would struggle to keep anguish off his face. Or that a demon could even feel anguish. “To punish the humans for disobedience.”

_ Not the humans _ , Crawley thinks.  _ Me. She’s making sure I can’t see the sky. _

Who knows when Lucifer would let him back on Earth again? What if this has been his only chance? Crawley curls his hands into fists to keep his fingers from shaking, only to be betrayed by a tremor through his wings.

When the angel extends his wing to shelter Crawley from the rain, he steps under it immediately. He lets himself pretend that the soft, ethereal glow of the angel’s feathers is actually starlight dancing across his skin.

* * *

“That was excellent work with the apple,” Beezlebub says, glancing down at Crawley’s report. She idly scratches one of the boils on her nose as she evaluates the magnitude of his actions, determining the overall effect he had on the future of humanity.

It’s bloody irritating, having to write reports. Then again, this  _ is _ Hell. 

“Just a few hours on Earth and you caused humans to commit the Original Sin. We can get to them now. Well done.”

If Crawley weren’t a demon, he would identify the emotion blooming in his chest as hope. Instead, he labels it Pride. He lets a self-satisfied smirk slide across his face. 

“If I more or less doomed the human race in just a few hours, imagine what I could do if I were assigned there permanently.” 

* * *

He finds Adam and Eve in a small oasis in the desert, huddled around a fire they no doubt started with the angel’s sword. Adam brandishes the weapon as Crawley approaches them.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Crawley says. He steps into the light, and gives the humans a moment to study him. 

“What is wrong with your eyes?” Adam asks. Beside him, Eve gasps. She’s staring at Crawley in astonishment, or maybe horror. 

“Those are a serpent’s eyes,” she whispers.

  
Crawley nods.

“You’re the snake?” Adam snarls, taking a step towards Crawley. Crawley flares his wings and Adam stumbles back. “You got us banished out of Eden.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Crawley says. “The two of you made a choice.” 

They glance at each other, but say nothing. 

“What do you want?” Eve finally asks. 

“To ssshow you something. Come with me,” Crawley says. 

The humans don’t move, and Crawley rolls his eyes. “Bring the sword if it makes you feel better. But I promise you won’t need it.” 

Crawley’s voice is steady, reasonable. Tempting.

The humans follow him into the desert, the sand cool beneath their feet as the fire fades into the dark behind them. Adam plunges the sword into the sand at Crawley’s request, extinguishing the flame. The night surrounds them, the light from the moon casting eerie shadows across the dunes. 

“Why are we here?” Eve’s voice trembles, but still she meets Crawley’s gaze. 

Crawley hesitates for a moment, wondering if this will end up being a Right Thing. But he can explain it away, argue that humans need to trust him again in order for him to lead them astray later on. That a demon showing them something wondrous outside the Garden would cause them to align with him, and stray further from God.

Like the angel on the eastern wall, he decides not to wait and see whether his choice aligns with Hell’s plans; he simply acts.

“Look up,” he says. 

A small, proud smile spreads across Crawley’s lips as, for the first time in Creation, humans tilt their faces towards the sky and gaze up at the stars.


End file.
